


Everything He Didn't Say

by zephyryllis (SupernaturalMystery306)



Series: SPN Kink Bingo 2016 [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blackmail, Bottom Sam, Daddy Kink, Derogatory Language, Extremely Dubious Consent, Father/Son Incest, I think that's all...., John Has A Daddy Kink, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Pre-Stanford, Sam loves Dean but Dean doesn't know, Spanking, Supernatural Kink Bingo 2016, Top John Winchester, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-07-19 00:20:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7337026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SupernaturalMystery306/pseuds/zephyryllis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Sam stared, mouth dry, his lips parted the smallest fraction. John had walked out of the shower with just a towel on, which had an impressive tent in the front. His skin was glistening with moisture, and as a drop of water ran down the toned chest, a similar drop of sweat slid down Sam's temple.</i>
</p><p>(SPNKinkBingo fill by @fancythingsandgossamerwings)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everything He Didn't Say

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MothMeetsFlame](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MothMeetsFlame/gifts).



> For the dude who writes the best incest. (Yes, I've read incest, and now written it. I'm guilty. XD) Heeeyyy, wait, best rhymes with incest! Omg! And... well, also gifted to him because I bothered him with this. What can I say, I am a bothersome person. *bright smile*
> 
> 'Allo, Moth! I hope you like this. :D This is kinda really fucking sad, did not turn out to be as porny as I had intended it to be. Oh well. :P Also bruh I had a stellar time cackling over your username’s reference which I threw into this. XD
> 
> Written for the [SPN Kink Bingo](http://spnkinkbingo.tumblr.com). Square filled: #7: JohnSam. If anyone is bored enough to want to see what other fics/squares I have you're welcome to check [ this page](http://fancythingsandgossamerwings.tumblr.com/spnkinkbingo) out. :)

Dean was pretty. John had eyes; of course he'd know that his eldest son was pleasant on said eyes. He had inherited some of Mary's best attributes.

But, oh,  _Sam_.

John was smart enough to know that his youngest son was even more appealing than Dean. It wasn't just his face, it was also the way he was always trying to rebel against everything, but caved in the end.

At seventeen, he had that innocent aura about him drew girls and boys alike to him like moths to a flame. (Sam was stupid if he thought that John didn't know about the tryst he had had with some boy when he had been left with Bobby for a week.) While he made the younger people swoon, he also had a maturity in him that intrigued even the older people, John was aware. His lanky figure and pink lips didn't help matters either.

Sam was a bundle of contradictions, and John was way too deep in the investigation of him to get back out.

**-x-**

So imagine his surprise when John walked into their motel room after a successful hunt to find Dean nowhere in sight and Sam moaning like a whore on his elder brother's bed, fingers deep in his ass.

He halted, not able to do anything but stare. It was as if he was glued to the spot, and he looked on hungrily as Sam pulled a long finger out, only to slam it back in and scream out, "Dean!"

And suddenly John was ripped out of the stillness. He jerked, as air filled his lungs again and a pounding started up in his head before receding. Slamming the door shut (really, anyone could have taken a peek and had a show), he revelled in the look of absolute terror that shone in Sam's eyes as they flew open at the bang. He scrambled, ripping his fingers out and wincing at the sudden pain, and threw a sheet ( _Dean's_ ) over himself, shielding everything from his father's eyes.

John internally chuckled. He wouldn't be hiding for long.

He pretended not to notice anything out of the ordinary, and walked over to the table. Throwing his bag on it, he sighed out, popping the muscles in his back. "Where's your brother?" he asked in his usual gruff voice, feigning tiredness.

Sam didn't answer—not that John expected him to—so he spoke again, "I'm going to take a shower."

He walked to the bathroom, and shut the door. In the shower, he debated on what to do. Was jerking off a good option? On one hand, he could do that, and let out all the noises that were sure to humiliate his youngest son  _(turn that boy a delicious pink)_. On the other hand, he could just forgo the jerk-off session and walk out with a hard-on and a towel, which he had been harbouring ever since he had walked into the hotel room and seen Sam. The hard-on—he was harbouring a hard-on—not the towel.

 _Screw the wanking,_  his inner devil said,  _you'll probably be screwing the boy later_.

John snorted at his thoughts, and got the soap, lathering up his body liberally before stepping under the spray of water.

After a few minutes, when he had turned off the water and wrapped a towel around his waist, he wiped off the steam from the mirror. The air inside the bathroom was hot, and the fogged up glass gave off a steamy vibe.

His skin was itching, blood bubbling under his skin with excitement and lust. He couldn't wait any longer. 

He pushed open the door.

**-x-**

Sam stared, mouth dry, his lips parted the smallest fraction. John had walked out of the shower with just a towel on, which had an impressive tent in the front. His skin was glistening with moisture, and as a drop of water ran down the toned chest, a similar drop of sweat slid down Sam's temple. That tent wasn't leaving much to the imagination either. To put it plainly, his dad looked hot. Sexy, even, sexier than most people that Sam had seen.

( _Anyone, except Dean,_  a voice in his head jeered, suspiciously sounding like his brother himself.)

Sam's  _alone time_  had already been interrupted, and he had even been able to get his dick under control while John had been in the shower (mostly due to the terror he had been feeling.)

But now, seeing the eldest Winchester’s arousal was kick-starting his own, bringing his blasted dick back up to full mast. Sam breathed heavily, trying to think clearly, but the arousal thrumming through his body made it hard to do anything but want to drop to his knees.

He finally looked at his father’s face, finding John’s eyes trained on his own face, and a smirk playing on his lips. Oh, _fuck_.

“So, Dean? Does he know how much of a slut you are for him?” John cut to the chase, and something akin to satisfaction shone in his eyes as Sam paled.

So he had heard that too. His father had not only seen him with his fingers up his ass, he had also heard him moaning out his brother’s name. Sam closed his eyes tightly, willing the burn building up behind his eyelids to recede. He waited.

Was John going to shout at him? Tell him how depraved he was? Would he kick him out? Would he... would he throw Sam to the next monster they encountered? Leave him to die? Or worse, would he tell Dean all about what he saw—tell him how his brother was a slut who pined after him? Would Dean look at him, disgust evident in his eyes, how _his Sammy_ had betrayed his trust? Would John make Dean shoot him like a vermin?

Sam’s breath hitched at the thoughts, and he sucked in air desperately, trembling despite feeling hot all over. He felt sick.

A hand touched his upper arm, and he jolted, stumbling back and falling onto the bed to get away from his father who was now straight out smirking.

“You’re scared, aren’t you? Scared that Dean will find out and never think of you the way he used to? That he’ll no longer love you, even as a brother?”

Sam didn’t respond, but the plain fear shining in his eyes was enough of an answer.

John came closer, and Sam dropped all pretence. He scrambled back, getting on his knees and supporting himself on the hard bed. He knew what was going to happen now. John was going to beat him into a bloody pulp and shoot him right in the head.

Would he not even let Sam see Dean one last time? Seriously, his brother’s hatred was better than his obliviousness to Sam’s infatuation. The last time they’d talked, Sam realized with a sinking feeling, was in the morning when Sam had snapped at Dean. Because he knew Dean would go out to a bar in the evening. Because he knew Dean would pick up some slutty chick. Because he’d been _jealous_.

And now...

He’d never get to see him again.

Desperation and panic clogged up his senses as his breathing quickened and his hands dampened with even more sweat. He clenched his eyes shut, waiting for the click of the gun.

It never came.

He waited for what felt like an eternity, but there was no sound to tell what his father was going.

He faintly heard the slick sound of a hand running over something wet, and he wondered if John was preparing to use one of the fancy weapons. Did he think that Sam deserved to die in the messiest way possible? Anything was possible with his father.

He suddenly felt the bed dip, and his eyes flew open of their own accord.

And the world stopped.

John had flung his towel to the ground, and as he climbed up onto the bed and fisted his cock loosely, he spoke with an air of ease, “Let’s have some fun here till he gets back, Sammy.”

And suddenly, Sam understood.

A sound suspiciously like a sob burst out of his throat, but it was smothered as his father captured his lips with his own.

John didn’t seem to care about how Sam was unresponsive, he just _took_.

Eventually, Sam caved. It wasn’t because it was John, it was because Sam was _stimulated_.

And fuck it, if it was really the only way to go, he was going to try and enjoy it. (He kept telling himself that over and over again, although at the back of his head a voice kept saying he wouldn’t. Again, it was _Dean’s_.)

When John flipped him over, Sam raised himself on his elbows and knees.

“I suppose you’ve already stretched yourself out,” John growled out, and Sam nodded into the pillow. He didn’t comment on how his father seemed to know so much about anal sex. He probably had it with a woman.

As John thrust inside him, a million thoughts ran through Sam’s head— _bastard, liar, he is supposed to be my father, he isn’t supposed to fuck me just because—just because I am obsessed with my fucking **brother** —Dean—oh fuck, Dean—fuck—_

 “Dean!” was what came out of his mouth as a shaky moan. He hadn’t even realized, but his throat was raw from screaming. He was blabbing undecipherable words, all mingling into nonsensical sounds as he panted and pushed back against his father’s cock.

John brought a hand down on his ass, and he wailed out in surprise. “It’s _daddy,_ boy, say _daddy_ , not _Dean_.”

Sam clamped his lips shut, but when John didn’t stop smacking his ass over and over again, he let out a guttural sound, “Fuck, _daddy_!”

John chuckled, a dark and unwelcome sound, and Sam almost hurled as the motion of the bed and thought of what it signified became too much.

His erection had all but gone down. The initial, _superficial_ appreciation he had had for his father’s body now felt like a dirty, unholy thought. And it was unholy, wasn’t it, the way John was fucking his son?

He had almost blocked it all out from his brain, when John groaned brokenly and started pistoning out of him even quicker.

When Sam felt teeth nipping at his shoulders, he bucked back, trying to shake his father off, trying to stop him from marking him in any way other than _mentally_. He knew he was fucked up—both figuratively and mentally—he didn’t need visual proof of it every time he turned in front of a mirror. And John did not have the _right_ to mark him up. That right was all Dean’s, and Dean didn’t _want that right_.

But John wasn’t deterred. As he gripped Sam’s hair with almost inhuman strength, Sam didn’t have any choice but to cry out and bare his neck, and _fuck_ , John went for the neck instead of the shoulder.

He wanted his mark to be visible.

_Bloody fucking bastard._

And it was that moment that John started coming. He ripped himself out of his son, and painted his come all over Sam’s back.

As John came down from his high, Sam shivered uncontrollably. He felt hot and cold at the same time, and it was not pleasant _at all_. He belatedly realized that his teeth were chattering as his tongue got caught between them, and he winced.

He felt John’s weight leave the bed, and Sam tried to turn onto his side. A surprised sound of pain left his mouth as he felt his body protest, and he grimaced as John’s release clung to his skin.

Fuck.

He felt disgusting.

John came back, and when Sam felt a wet cloth touch his back, he flailed, trying to get away.

“Stop,” John said lowly, holding him in place with a hand, “you don’t want _your_ _Dean_ to see you, do you? Covered in come and teeth marks like a _whore_ , spread out like a _slut_?”

Sam wanted to say, _yes, anything is better than being seen like this by you_ , but the rational side of him knew that if he said something like that, refused to do what John wanted, there was no knowing what he would tell Dean.

Dean was important to Sam.

Fuck, _Dean_. He was why this had happened in the first place. Sam’s eyes watered as he sat up on the bed, refusing to let his father see his face as John cleaned his back.

Obscured by his hair, his eyes travelled down to his penis, and a sick satisfaction spread through him to see it clean and limp. He hadn’t come.

It didn’t lessen the feeling of _shame_ and _pain_ and utter faithlessness, but Sam believed in small victories.

When they heard the door being opened (unsuccessfully), they both froze.

And John _threw the cloth at his back_. Sam gasped; his brain was not able to keep up with the events that were happening. He knew what was happening. But he couldn’t react.

He felt _numb_.

John shoved him into a straight position from his slumped one, and Sam finally looked back at him. The eldest hunter was fucking fully dressed, and when had that happened?

“Next time,” John breathed into his ear, “Don’t spend ten minutes soaking in the afterglory. Or whatever the fuck you kids call it.”

And he opened the door and went outside to talk to Dean, who indignantly demanded why he’d been left out. Sam’s lip almost curled at the unintentional offer, but he breathed silently instead, brain in a faraway place.

_“I caught your brother getting **fucked by a man** , Dean. I’m not going back in there. You handle that bastard.”_

Sam stared hollowly at the floor, unblinking as the wetness ran down his cheeks.

The reality of it had sunk into him. John hadn’t protected his secret. He had used it to blackmail Sam.

The seventeen year old took a shaky breath, and got up from the bed. He staggered to the bathroom and slammed the door shut. Minutes later, when Dean entered the room, the sound of running water could be heard.

- **x-**

A few days later, Sam left for Stanford. He saw Dean one last time, hugged him, held him close one last time—thinking about everything he had not said, never would say.

“Don’t trust him, Dean, please.” he said, before turning away and getting into the bus, forcing himself to not look at his brother even as Dean faded away into the distance.

**Author's Note:**

> Some cameo time with Spanking™ becauseeee I love spanking.
> 
> I feel just a little bit queasy for having written this. I’m okay with Wincest but I managed to creep myself out with this one. Sighhhh, I must write me some Destiel to make myself feel better lol. I look forward to writing Destimeg too. :D  
> ...Sorry for the rant. XD
> 
> I hope y’all liked this even tho it was shitty and I hope some of you come and talk to me on [tumblr](http://fancythingsandgossamerwings.tumblr.com) because I’m desperate for friends. Not really, no, I’m not desperate, but I just love talking to people. :P


End file.
